


Too Much Is Never Enough

by Ravenstag



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: M/M, Memories, Songfic, William's regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenstag/pseuds/Ravenstag
Summary: William reflects on memories of Louis XIV. Song fic includes the lyrics of "Too Much Is Never Enough" performed by Florence + The Machine.





	Too Much Is Never Enough

"And the crown it weighs heavy, 'til it's banging on my eyelids..." 

Long strides through the Palace of Versailles took him to the throne room, and before the man known to most as the sun king. Their first meeting had been an interesting one, barbed insults exchanged behind smiles as eyes raked over each other openly. 

"Retreating in covers and closing the curtains, one thing's for certain, a year like this passes so strangely somewhere between sorrow and bliss."

The second time they met, less words had been exchanged before they found themselves in Louis' bed, clothing hastily discarded, each movement a clash of teeth and tongues, fighting for dominance. Hushed French words whispered against his ear stilled William, and he let out a breathy sigh. 

"Who decides from where up high? I couldn't say "I need more time." Grant that I can stay the night or one more day inside this life."

Louis had been furious at the thought of William marrying Mary, and had vocalised such reservations, watery eyes betraying just how much the thought of William being with another who wasn't him hurt. William had felt his heart melt that day, fingers stroking over Louis' shoulders. 

He'd reassured him just how much he loved him. That Louis was the only one he would ever say those words to. 

"Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much is never enough."

William had still married Mary, though the French king had attended the ceremony, much to his surprise. A fond smile passed over his lips at the thought that Louis had come to him upon his wedding night. 

William had surrendered himself to the French king that night, awakening the next morning to see his skin marred by love bites. 

How happy he felt to be possessed by someone. 

"Oh, you wondrous creature, coming up who we are."

He hadn't expected the gift Louis had given him upon his birthday the following year. The ring that had been so delicately slid upon his fingers, gold and shining with a lustre that envied Louis' own. A sign that he belonged to the sun king, and so he wore it with pride. For as each year passed, his love for Louis only grew stronger.

"Because I'm retreating in covers and closing the curtains, one thing's for certain, a year like this passes so strangely somewhere between sorrow and bliss."

He had remained loyal to the French king, even as he sat upon the British throne. His expeditions away to war against the French had merely been a stage upon which the exquisite play of being courted by the French king unfolded. He ached for Louis, each night upon the "front", and when the guards slept, they stole away together to roll with each other in the grass, the only witness the moon and stars that shone above them and illuminated their gentle lovemaking. 

"Who decides from where up high? I couldn't say "I need more time." Grant that I can stay the night or one more day inside this life."

Though their faith was not compatible, their personalities were. Ambition and addiction was what had led them to a nearby church and joint praying had ended up in them leaving to find solace in each other's arms, their prayers each other's names falling from their mouths. 

"Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much is never enough."

When Mary had died, Louis had come to visit. Vulnerable, William had sobbed openly upon the older man's shoulder. He cared little for propriety in that moment, and he only began to settle down once he felt those arms around him. He needed the security Louis afforded him. 

"And who cares about the thing I did that night? So what? Maybe Louis had it right..."

At times, he wondered if he'd done the right thing for his family and the man he considered his lover. Louis had had many lovers as the years went by, and other than Mary and Louis, William had only had one. Yet they still found their way back to each other each time, drawn by an almost magnetic force. William was loathe to admit it, but after all this time, Louis still had so much control over him. 

"And who cares if I'm coming back alive?  
So what? 'Least I have the strength to fight."

One last time they agreed to meet in "war", both older and far too besotted with each other to meet in fierce battle. Having agreed a treaty, they dismissed their men and found comfort in each other's arms. Even though William was into his forties then, what they had done had been energetic and almost to the point of frenzy, simply aching for each other too much to be restrained. 

"Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much is never enough."

The next day, in the courtyard, pale fingers moved through mahogany hair, flecked with silver strands, as the younger man shared a kiss with the French king, dipped back as they danced together, the banners of their men flying in the wind. 

"One other year, a hundred flags flying in a field, one day, felt it let go of me..."

The flags slowly began to fade in his vision. All those thoughts, those 'memories' were all just beautiful lies.

These fantasies were what kept William alive, fighting against the illness that wracked his body. 

On 8 March, 1702, William of Orange passed away from pneumonia, aged 51. His last smile upon his lips as he spoke his final word. 

"Louis."

He loved the French king until his death and the man would never know. William's only regret was that he never had a chance to tell him. 

In Versailles, upon hearing of William's death, Louis had ordered a bunch of orange roses from the gardens to be brought into him, mourning the lover he had never been able to know.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably guess, the memories were never real. 
> 
> Always appreciate feedback! X


End file.
